Diary of the one and only Darrel Curtis
by Crushedamigo
Summary: Sections of the Outsiders in Darry's view.
1. Chapter 1

I.

Chapter 1

They've hurt my kid brother. I can hear him crying out for me. For my other kid brother, for the gang. My worn converse squeaking, my legs protesting, I reached Ponyboy. I saw a red Corvair sitting on our sidewalk. A Soc in a blue madras shirt was stuffing a cloth into my kid brother's mouth. His green-grey eyes were glazed over in pain and fear, his unblemished neck pressed to a blade.

Not cool.

I saw red howdaretheytouchmybrotherheisinsomuchpainmustsavsavesavesavesave-

I bought my fist down on the Soc holding a blade to Ponyboy. I threw him down and stepped on his groin. His blade probably grazed my ankle (I'm wiping blood off of it now). Not that I noticed then. I saw Ponyboy, his thin body lying on the concrete, his pale face tilted to the side. Blood dripped off into the cracks on the sidewalk. Copper locks covered the purple bruise under his cheekbones and a thin cut bleeding into his hair.

An idiot, he is. Probably wasted all that brains in school. But he is my kid brother. I love, am proud of him, and he doesn't know it.

I hauled him up, hooking my arms around his armpits. He was so thin. If only I worked harder he wouldn't have to stay in this hellhole no more.

I asked him if he was alright. Subconsciously I started shaking him. He told me to stop and I did, instantly.

Ponyboy sat on the sidewalk, rubbing his cheek where the purple bruise was quickly swelling. His eyes were tearing up and he looked so frail. But he held it in and looked away from me. I wanted to hug him so bad-give him the comfort he needed. No, that's Soda's job. Not mine.

Not that I didn't want to, just that I don't know how.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Chapter 3

In an attempt to come home a little earlier, I lifted two loads a time at work. Now I wished I hadn't done that-my back is now sore and my neck area so tense that it is nearly impossible to roll my shoulders back.

Soda came home a little while after, smelling like gasoline, not that the ladies at the station really care when they were too busy looking into his Curtis features. I made baked beans and potatoes for dinner, not feeling up to anything too fancy.

It's getting dark. Ponyboy's still out, somewhere. Probably with the gang or with Johnny. That kid's a good influence on Pony. Them two are different from the rest of us-they are golden, clean. Not they aren't tuff, no. Especially Ponyboy. My kid brother, he is pure. He will go to places, out of this ratty neighbourhood one day, get a job in the city, live a decent life away from Socs and greasers.

10 p.m.. Still no sign of Pony . Not a big problem though; the gang can stay out pretty late at times when Socs are involved. Hope he's not hurt.

His food's getting cold.

Midnight.

I thought he knew better than to stay out this late without notifying Sodapop or me. Then again, he never really uses that brain of his for anything other than school anyways. I told Soda to go sleep. I said I will wait for Pony. Sodapop looked at me real strange right then, and without a word jumped onto our $50 sofa and curled into it.

III.

Chapter 3

I got more and more worried as 2 am neared. What if he got sacked by a Soc? I was terrified, thinking of brother, _my brother_ calling out for help but nobody helping him as Socs jumped him, 4 on 1. I can imagine him fighting back, that little minx, landing a few good punches of his own too. That's right, I told myself. Pony is a strong kid. He'd be fine.

But will he?

Oh god I was getting tense. I grabbed the newspaper and tried to read. Put my mind on anything but Pony. The words, black, Times New Roman, glared back. Hmm… "Young girl hit by tr-" the door quietly opened. A mop of copper hair peaked out. His hair. I almost cried, really, cried out loud. My head felt hot. My feet took me to where he is. Oh I felt so much damned things all at once, so much that my chest felt like it's about to explode. It's too much. I was so mad yet so glad and everything else ceased to matter-I just wanna let go. But I didn't, for that is the right way. So that nobody gets hurt. But that kid-did he forget that he still had a family waiting for him?

I asked him where he was out late to. He told me he slept in the parking lot. I was so mad! He could have gotten jumped or killed, hell! He'd choose a parking lot over his home?

Was I really that terrible of a brother?


	3. Chapter 3

IV.

Chapter 4&5, before the Church fire

I ran

And ran and ran

Ponyboy I shouted yet he will not turn

I was so mad so lost so desperate that I yelled and hollered

But I hit Pony

I hit him oh god why

I droved my own brother away. I bet he's awful scared, now. A soc hitting you ain't the same as your own family; that is completely devastating

I tripped on a rock. My steps faltered. My head felt hazy and I felt as if I was walking through a fog. I couldn't form coherent thoughts

The world around me slowed. Everything was a blur. I tripped on nothing and landed harshly on my knees onto the wooden floor.

I slapped myself, hard. Stinging clarity broke through my mind's fog. Hey I knew I was a lost case but Ponyboy's still out there. He can make it outta the place.

I believe him.

So I tried so hard to become what mom and dad was. To become his parent figure. I pushed and pushed for him to do better, better, when all I really wanted to say was a "I'm proud of you brother". But I never did. And now I may never be able to again.

Sodapop's handwriting a letter now. That was the first time I've seen him so into writing. I wonder who he's writing to. I flinched away when I saw the words Ponyboy Curtis on the cover.

It's okay if you hate me, you have Sodapop. But please, just

come back


	4. Chapter 4

V.

Chapter 6

Dallas, curse him and his silence, just wouldn't tell me what happened to Ponyboy. I knew he was jumped but I didn't know what became of him.

In the end it was I that killed my own brother, just like I did my parents. I drove him to his death that night, by making him run away.

I killed him.

That's what swam through my head til Two-bit filled me with hope again. He said they ran away to Texas. All lies, if you ask me. But I was assured my brother was still alive and breathing and _well_.

I told Sodapop to give his letter to Dallas. He'll know how to get it to him. He always does. Though frustrating it is admirable how tight he can keep his trap shut for his comrades, not that I will attempt to forcefully challenge that anyway. Now that's a true deathwish. Hold on the phone's ringing-

2 minutes later

I laughed so hard that my stomach ached and laughed and laughed and laughed; he's back! Just like that. So was Johnny and Dallas. We greasers are together once more-all members intact!

Sodapop hugged me from behind in reassurance. We quickly got on our car and drove to the hospital. After declaring our relations with Pony we were directed to waiting room.

Soda rushed in and bear-hugged Pony. He's always so open and free and kind and gentle and _warm_. Me? A walking ice cube. I can't stop quivering; _god_ I just don't know what to feel anymore. I was so happy and so _mad_ at myself I was shaking. Ponyboy and I locked eyes. I can feel his green orbs desperately searching on me for something, something that he couldn't see that I have within me this whole damn time. I lost it then, taking, running towards him and just squeezed him tight, desperately trying to reassure myself that he is still just _there_ , living, breathing, alive.

It was then I realized all that I ever wanted was just to tell Pony how much I loved him.


	5. Chapter 5

VI.

Chapter 9.

I made baked chicken for dinner. Pony's favourite. I took one good look at him and saw just really how much last week really did to him. He looked frail, hungry, lost, and just really, really, bone-deep tired. His eyes had a different gleam to them-something far less innocent that will follow him to his death. Anyways, I made him his favourite meal so that he can actually eat, not some crappy hospital food or hobo staple but a legit and good homemade meal.

He looked so uncertain. We all do when we realized the world is just black and white, Socs and greasers. The world is grey, yet only so few among us can see it. Pony ought to stay outta this rumble, really. I don't want him to fight purposelessly; he'll be hurt so bad, and I don't want that to happen so soon. Preferably never. Plus, he was taking loads of aspirin. He thought that I haven't noticed, that little minx. Who do you think bought him all that anyways?

So I told him that he should stay home. Kid fought real good before, but he might seriously get hurt this time. His head is messed up and he's just fresh outta his injuries. Of course no body bloody listened. After all I ain't no freaking Dally and everybody really thought he was okay. Well screw you all. Imma keep a tight watch my kid brother anyways.

They did cartwheels and gymnastic tricks like that-I felt like a proud teacher watching my kiddies then. We sang trash, laughed, and got real tense. The brumly boys came over. Bunch of future convicts, they are. There are at times, when my mind would betray my heart and I would wonder what would've happened if I joined the Socs, went to an university, get a job in the city. Get a house, maybe bring my brothers with me. But I can't do that. What of Soda? What of Pony? Who would take care of them? Give them a home, a parental figure? No one. I can't just take such a big risk on the most important portions of their lives.

…

I ain't just muscles, guys. Not cool. My pride is my mind. My smarts, my studies.

Just stop, please.

About 20 minutes later.

There were four carloads of them. All clean, posh, looking decent. Well they would leave totally transformed. I stepped out in front of my gang and looked at the Socs, all confident and tuff. But truly, I felt a tad ashamed to even be a part of this stupid, stupid rumble. All my high school buddies are off in college, and here I am leading a rumble against a bunch of pretty boys.

Nobody moved, until the crowd parted way for a single blond. Paul.

I really didn't know what to feel then-jealousy for he is in college? Disgust for him coming back to something he can fully stay away from with no worries (unlike me)? Pity probably is the best fit-like me, stuck in a negative loop that only gets worse and worse.

He'll take me, he said. I smiled. Just like the old times in school. Our only opponents are us and will probably remain that way.

As shout came from behind me. Naturally I turned to look at who it was, and Dallas Winston came running up the hill. Before I can turn back to my opponent, a powerful punch so much like mine slammed hard into my jaw. I grinned. Playing dirty-oh, the memories. Thus the rumble began and chaos unfolded.

Paul swung at my head. Excellent form, yes. But years of rumbling and protecting my kid brothers from the damned Socs changed me. I rolled under his punch and sweep at his feet from below, causing him to topple over and land on his back. He tried to get back up but I looked at him, hard. He flinched back. That's right, I thought. That's about right.

I saw a Soc picking on Ponyboy. Not acceptable. I threw that rich brat onto the ground.

They ran away. What cowards.

Yet I still don't feel happiness.


End file.
